Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

“ I must see him.”

“The master of the house is indisposed.” The butler shifted uncomfortably on the step so many times that it was a wonder to Keith that he managed to keep his voice level at all. “There have been express instructions not to admit visitors this morning. They’ve had some… some news.”

“News? Or a scandal sheet?” Keith said pointedly, watching as the butler paled even more than he already had. “Trust me, the Marquess of Pembroke will want to see me. I have something important to say to him.”

“What is all this noise?” a voice sounded from inside the house.

The butler did his best to close the door and block out the view of Keith, but he stepped to the side and pointedly wedged his boot into the gap, refusing to let the butler shut the door completely.

“Oh!” the butler yelped in alarm and stepped back, allowing Keith to thrust his hand against the door and push it open. “This is a disgrace, Sir, you cannot just barge into the house.”

“Yer Grace,” Keith corrected him.

There was something amusing about seeing the butler instantly recoil as he realized just who exactly he had offended.

Something Keith had noticed time and time again since becoming a duke was the way people fell over backward when they discovered his title.

“I must see the Marquess,” he said again, now shifting his focus to the other person in the hallway.

At once, he knew he must be speaking to Celia’s mother. She had the same red hair, though it was greying these days. She stood there awkwardly, wringing her hands, her jaw slackening a little as she stared at him.

“Lady Pembroke?” he said, moving toward her. “I must speak to yer husband.”

She was tongue-tied, repeatedly opening and closing her mouth. He knew she must have guessed which duke he was from the look of shock on her face.

“Please,” he added.

At a distance, he could hear raised voices in the house.

“I know it, Father. I have discovered it. I heard it from a trusted friend’s lips. She will not be able to hurt anyone like this again.”

“I know, Violet, I know,” a man’s soothing voice said. “Yet, little does that help Celia now.”

Not bothering to wait for the butler or Lady Pembroke to escort him through the house, Keith marched in the direction of the voices.

“Wait, you cannot go in there unless I announce you!” the butler cried out, trying to stop him, but Keith ignored him.

He walked on toward the door at the far end of the corridor and pushed it open.

Violet stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. She spun around as he entered, her lips parted, but the most interesting sight in the room was the gentleman with her.

This had to be the Marquess of Pembroke. He stood clutching the back of a chair, looking rather in pain. He’d shed his tailcoat and must have repeatedly pulled at the cravat around his throat, for it now hung loose and uneven. The hair on his forehead was damp with sweat.

“Lord Pembroke?” Keith began, aware that behind him, Lady Pembroke had now entered the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw her gesture frantically toward him.

“Ah, I see.” The Marquess sighed and gripped the chair harder. “From the panicked way my wife is motioning toward you, you must be the Duke of Hardbridge?”

“Aye, I am.”

“You have read the same scandal sheet, I take it?” The Marquess released the chair and walked around it, picking up the sheet of paper that had been left nearby on a table.

“I have. Has Lady Celia seen it yet?” Keith asked, aware that there was one person obviously missing from this room. The most important one.

“She’s out walking,” Violet explained, wringing her hands. “I fear… I fear she may have read it by the time she returns.”

Keith grimaced. Something he had learned about his short time in London was that the ton were not afraid to pull their punches when it came to gossip. He could imagine some ladies pointing out with relish to Celia that her name was now scandalized, printed in ink for all to see.

“I have come to take responsibility.” Keith was aware of how wooden his words sounded, for he had rehearsed them the whole way here, but he had no choice. He was bound now, bound by the rules of Society. “I will not see yer daughter’s name disgraced in such a way. I come to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Lady Pembroke made a small squeaking sound behind him, though no one paid her any attention.

“Marriage?” Violet spluttered in astonishment. “You will really marry her?”

Despite her words, Keith kept his gaze fixed on the Marquess. Celia’s father was currently watching him intently, his gaze rather penetrating. Keith had a feeling that this man was less of a talker and more of a watcher—he liked to observe as much as he could before he made judgments.

“I cannot believe this,” Violet muttered again after a few seconds of silence. “To think this is all happening because of Lady Alicia.”

“What?” Keith snapped his head around.

What does she have to do with this?

“Another time, Violet.” Lord Pembroke raised his hand, a small gesture to show that this conversation would be resumed at a later time. “Your Grace, please, join me in my study. There is much to discuss.”

He moved to leave the room, and Keith fell into step behind him. Lady Pembroke tried her best to intercept them, though she failed. In contrast, Violet flung herself despairingly into a chair.

Keith rather wondered if Celia would have reacted with the same fear and panic.

What will she say to this?

He followed Lord Pembroke into his study. The Marquess sighed heavily as he closed the door and wiped his damp brow. For a minute, Keith thought the Marquess looked sick because of his fear for his daughter, but he soon realized he was wrong. The Marquess moved to the desk, leaned heavily on it, and picked up a small vial which he downed.

“Are ye well?” Keith suddenly abandoned all stiffness. Instead, he hastened forward, dropping his coat and reaching for the man’s shoulder when he swayed on his feet.

“They tell me there is no cure for what I have.” The Marquess shook his head. “Not that they can even tell me what is wrong with me. Doctors, eh?” He attempted to laugh and shake his head, though it soon faded away. “I’m well enough, Your Grace.”

Yet, as he swayed on his feet again, Keith took action. He steered the gentleman to the nearest chair. The Marquess sat heavily back, his breathing somewhat labored.

Keith scrounged around the room, soon finding a carafe of brandy in a nearby cupboard and pulling it out. He passed a small glass of the stuff to the Marquess, who smiled his thanks.

“They always told me this stuff was good for shock.” The Marquess once more attempted to smile, though it didn’t last very long as he knocked back the brandy.

I have seen something like this before.

Keith slowly sat down beside the Marquess. Once, years ago, when his brother was a child, he had suffered the same sort of dizziness and sweats. It was at first thought to be nothing but a passing flu, only he had steadily gotten worse.

It was their castle healer at the end who had identified what was wrong with his brother and saved his life.

I shall send for her. Perhaps she will know what is wrong with Lord Pembroke.

“Is there anything else I can get for ye?” Keith asked.

“No, but I thank you for the offer.” The Marquess nursed his brandy and then shifted his focus back to Keith.

Once more, Keith felt he was being scrutinized.

“You do realize what you are offering, don’t you? I am not just speaking to a duke now, but to a man… You are offering marriage to a woman you barely know, to protect her reputation.”

“I do.”

“Then I urge you to consider this carefully,” Lord Pembroke said gently and kindly. At once, Keith liked him. “Forever is a long time. Binding yourself to someone forever, when you hardly know them…” he trailed off.

Yet, I do know her.

Keith sat back, thinking of all that he did know about Celia. He knew plenty, but what the Marquess didn’t know was that Keith was considering a different sort of marriage. He would not repeat the mistakes of his father. Celia would have complete freedom from him, the freedom that his mother never had but had always craved.

“I am aware of what I am doing,” Keith assured him in the same soft tone, though his voice was very serious. “It is the right thing to do, for all our sakes.”

“Well, if you are certain.” Lord Pembrooke sighed. “She has a dowry, of course, though I am afraid it is not large.”

“The dowry is not a concern,” Keith assured him quickly.

At one time, it had been all he had thought of. He wanted the dowry to fill the dukedom’s coffers, but now that need didn’t seem so important, not when they were talking about Celia. He had enough to get by and could make investments elsewhere to improve his financial situation.

“I have plenty of money. Aye, this is just about doing what is needed now. I shall obtain a special license so we can marry as soon as possible.”

“Very well.” Lord Pembroke lifted his head off the back of the chair, looking even more tired than before. “I wish I could have welcomed you into my family in another way.”

Keith shifted at this thought. For a second, he indulged in a wild imagining of having courted Celia, of the two of them falling desperately in love, being so besotted that they could barely spend a minute away from one another?—

No!

He pushed the thought away at once. Such obsessions and infatuations were dangerous. He had to put a stop to them.

“We deal with the life we are given, aye,” Keith said slowly. “I am quite determined though, My Lord. I will not be deterred from doing what is right.”

“I am pleased to see that you are a good man, but forgive me for pointing out that there is perhaps one thing you have forgotten to consider.” Lord Pembroke offered the smallest of sly smiles as he raised his glass to his lips again. “You forget we have not heard Celia’s answer yet.”

Celia burst through the door. It slammed against the wall, though she barely noticed. She issued a hurried apology to the poor butler, who stood in the entrance hall looking rather shaken.

“They’ve read it, haven’t they?” she asked the butler, watching as he trembled, lifting a hand to his mouth and half covering his pale cheeks.

Hurriedly, he nodded.

Celia marched away. She could hear voices coming from the drawing room and rushed toward them.

Violet was sitting down, her shoulders slumped as she stared at the ceiling. In her hands was a crumpled scandal sheet. Behind her, their mother was pacing up and down, muttering to herself.

“Celia?” Violet declared in surprise. She straightened up and stuffed the sheet under her legs, trying to hide it.

“It’s a bit late now, isn’t it?” Celia said, gesturing to her sister. “I have been on a promenade where everyone was only too delighted to point, stare, and enlighten me as to what sort of woman I now am—disgraced.”

Her eyes flicked to her mother. Marianne couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“Have you nothing to say, Mother?” Celia asked, her stomach twisting into tight knots.

Marianne stopped her pacing but still didn’t look at her.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?” Marianne managed to stammer out. “It’s you. It’s more of a wonder that this hasn’t happened before now.”

“Ma!” Violet snapped, leaping to her feet.

“She’s wild enough,” Marianne said, her breath coming in short gasps. “I suppose it’s a relief it has taken so long for her reputation to be so completely destroyed. And that man… he won’t marry her.” She pointed a finger at the door. “What possible reason could he have to marry her?”

“Man? What man?” Celia looked around, half expecting to see someone standing in the doorway.

“The Duke of Hardbridge is here,” Violet explained in a rush.

Celia didn’t bother to talk anymore. All her fears about her mother’s reaction vanished as her mind was consumed by a new thought.

He’s here? Why has he come?

She walked out of the room fast. She didn’t need to ask where he was in the house. If he was here for the reason she surmised, then he would no doubt be deep in conversation with her father, and that meant they’d be in his study.

“Celia? Celia!” Marianne called after her, though she gave no sign of having heard her mother. “Haven’t you disgraced yourself enough without walking in on a private conversation in your father’s study?”

“According to your own words, it would not be possible to fall much lower,” Celia tossed back over her shoulder.

As she reached the door, she pushed it open.

Inside was a sight she had not been expecting. Perhaps she thought she would find her father behind his desk and the Duke of Hardbridge sitting on the other side.

Instead, they were sitting on the same side, with the Duke leaning toward her father. Jonathan was sipping from a brandy glass as the Duke sat back down slowly, his eyes flicking to Celia.

Something inside of her jolted as their eyes met.

It was maddening to her, that even after a scandal about the pair of them had broken, she was still attracted to him. Shouldn’t she detest the very sight of him? Shouldn’t she hate everything she had ever done with him?

Yet, she could not.

As she stared at him, she thought instead of the strong arms beneath his shirt. She thought of how they had explored one another in that dressing room, of the way he had moaned, practically growling out her name in the most animalistic and thrilling way.

Any other time, she might have longed to hear that sound again.

“What are you doing here?” She managed to voice her thoughts, at last.

“What do ye think, lass?”

To hear him call her that now only hurt. She stepped into the room and closed the door sharply.

“How did this happen?” she muttered.

“Your sister discovered the truth, Celia,” her father said soothingly. “She has been at her publishing house this morning. I think she practically raced there when the sun rose, shortly after the scandal sheet arrived on her doorstep. She asked questions, pressed people, until she had an answer.”

“An answer?”

Celia’s mouth was suddenly dry. She feared what would come next. Surely it would be some declaration that they had been seen together at the opera or Lady Arundel’s house. Her father was about to tell her that he knew exactly just how much she had broken the rules of propriety.

“It seems Lady Alicia gave these lies to the scandal sheet. Fortunately, one of your sister’s good friends at the publishing house has a connection with the printer of the scandal sheet.” Her father cast a glance at the Duke. “It seems that Lady Alicia went there and delivered the news. Perhaps out of spite.”

“Spite?” Celia repeated. “She had no reason to detest me.”

“I preferred ye to her, that much was obvious,” the Duke abruptly declared. “If she had her heart so set on marriage, and ye put in her head that I would marry her, perhaps she wanted revenge.”

Celia felt sick. Never had she thought it would come to this when she had first thought Lady Alicia and the Duke of Hardbridge would make a good match.

“It seems your sister has also taken justice into her own hands,” Jonathan went on.

“What?” Celia asked distractedly.

She was all too aware of the way the Duke was staring at her now. He hadn’t even blinked. It reminded her of how he had looked at her in that dressing room.

“There’s more to this than we could have known,” Jonathan said with a sigh. “Violet has discovered a great secret through her contacts, indeed. It seems Lady Alicia is with child.”

“I beg your pardon?” Celia stumbled forward.

“Yes. Perhaps the father has refused to marry her—that part isn’t clear. Yet, she is determined to marry. It seems when her best chance of marriage was taken away…” Jonathan looked between Celia and Keith. “She decided to take revenge.”

Celia felt rather sick. Sympathy for Lady Alicia welled up in her gut. She had been a woman seduced by a man, just like Charlotte. She had tried to save her child from poverty. Yet… she took revenge in a vicious way, indeed. As fast as Celia felt sympathy, bile rose in her throat.

A memory resurfaced. Celia could see in her mind’s eye the first night she had gone to Keith’s chamber. She had mistakenly stumbled into another gentleman’s chamber, where she had spotted a blonde lady in his arms.

Had that been Lady Alicia with her lover? Was that the lord who had refused to marry her?

“Violet has written a story of her own and given it to the paper, all about Lady Alicia. If she’s to be believed, no one will want anything to do with Lady Alicia after this.”

“Some comfort,” Celia muttered wryly. “Maybe Violet should focus on exposing the man who got Lady Alicia pregnant in the first place. But nothing can change what has happened already.”

“No, but there’s something we can do about that.” Jonathan took another sip of his brandy and then gestured to the Duke with his glass. “Did you think the Duke of Hardbridge had come just to talk about this matter? He has come to ask for your hand in marriage, Celia.”

Celia spun around to face the Duke again. His expression was impassive, completely inscrutable.

“You asked for my hand?” she whispered in disbelief.

She knew he did not want this. Time and time again he had ignored her as a potential bride. He wanted someone he didn’t care about. He merely wanted to make her his mistress. That much had been made abundantly clear.

“I did not agree to this,” Celia declared with sudden ferocity. “Father, I need to talk to the Duke of Hardbridge. Alone.”